


Super Pony Roomies Season 1

by Manehattinite



Series: Super Pony Roomies [1]
Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), My Little Pony, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Spectacular Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manehattinite/pseuds/Manehattinite
Summary: Peter Trotter, the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Pony. Tropical "Johnnycake" Storm, the high flying Horseshoe Torch. Two of Manehattan's most infamous super ponies and their most terrifying adventure yet: moving in together.Marvelfied Equestria AU, contains cameos from any and all franchises, Twilight 'n' Spidey ship, ego, neurosis and the magic of friendship. Will eventually contain a teleporting dog.
Series: Super Pony Roomies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054277





	1. Chapter 1

**_ PILOT LIGHT, HEARTH'S WARMING NIGHT _ **

[ _ 1 _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK0P1Bk8Cx4&ab_channel=KennyLogginsVEVO)

  
Winter in Manehattan. Only one more night till Hearth's Warming. _The_ night. The night they’d planned for since last Winter Wrap Up, the night that had to go perfectly otherwise it would in an almost literal sense spell their doom.

But nopony said he couldn’t have a little fun first!

And even if they had, Johnnycake would just have ignored them.

Too bad the last ferry had come and gone hours ago. Always nice to have an audience, especially tourists who hadn’t become jaded to the whole super scene, but hay, not like there was a shortage of ponies on the island who’d be out and about to see it.

The Horseshoe Torch reached inside and gunned whatever strange engine the cosmic rays had built there, putting on a last burst of speed to cover the distance between the edge of the city and the Statue of Destiny. Busy shoppers took a second to point hooves, talons, and other appendages at the fiery streak, burning in defiance of the falling snow.

Which promptly went out. With less than half a mile to go to Lady Destiny, Johnny cut the engine, momentum carrying him a little bit before he actually slowed, like a cartoon or something. Then gravity woke up and began to pull him towards the icy, somewhat rusty water like the world’s most boyishly good looking anvil.

“Aaand…Flame on!”

His flame form snapped back on, a spine-searing six feet above oblivion. It would have been four for the sake of the brand, but he needed the room to manoeuvre. He took a second, enjoying the sensation of speed and the streaks of mist the heat, _his_ heat, was causing to rise off the surface of the water.

Arcing up, the Torch course corrected back towards the landmark, shooting out two streams of flame from his outstretched hooves, and a third from his mouth for good measure. They continued to burn independently, and followed him like a flock of nepotistic streamers.

Once the loop-de-loop was complete, Johnny gesticulated like a conductor, directing each stream to stretch and curve juuust right. Completing the picture. But it still needed something.

Like the cartoon delinquent everypony assumed he’d been at childhood, (as if one could not develop stylish penponyship for the sheer joy of it!) Johnny sprouted a tiny flame in one hoof and scrawled a message of fire on the air. In a society that was part Pegasus sky writing was not new, but he’d actually gotten the idea for this specific use of his powers out of a comic book.

He squeezed the message between both blazing hooves, smearing the letters together, then spread them suddenly to send it up and out, until it was visible enough to be seen from the city.

_HAVE A HAPPY ONE_ declared the haloed-smiling-under-the-mistletoe-and-oh-yeah-on-fire caricature of Princess Celestia. The shoppers broke into applause on pure joyous instinct.

It was winking. Of course.

_******* _

“Show off,” the Spectacular Spider-Pony muttered, trying to keep his balance on the tip of the statue’s crown and stamp his hooves for warmth at the same time.

More out of habit than necessity. The thermal spell woven into the enchanted scarf Gem had given him back in the day still spread pleasantly through the fibres of one of the most (in)famous costumes in the city. But being 50% spider, as it had with so many things in his life, _ruined winter forever._

Not that he was a humbug or anything, but it’s hard to stay in the Hearth's Warming spirit all the time when your genetically altered instincts are screaming at you to find a nice, dark crack in a wall to hide in. On the other hoof, sun bathing was _a_ _delight_. Speaking of.

“Y’know I actually sort of know her now?” he called as the Torch came in for a landing. “When she comes for you, and if she won’t her sister will, and you run away to become a hermit in Wakanda or wherever, who do you think she’ll set her sights on next?”

“What? She doesn’t have any problem being on money or postage stamps.” Now normal, relatively speaking, Johnny shook himself like a dog to blow out a few remaining sparks. “The twin roots of all evil! And it’s her student you’d have to watch out for. Which you won’t, because it is an excellent, like all things I do, likeness.”

“Evil stamps?”

“The Mad Thinker collects them, Pete. Mad. It’s like right there in his name, what does that tell you, man?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spidey groused. “We doing this or what, flame-brain?”

“Soon as you unclench, web-head.” Johnny lounged casually against one of the crevices that made up the statue’s mane, idly wishing _he_ had a scarf to flap in the wind and make him look even more casual. But such was the price of perfectly regulated body temperature at will.

“Still can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Please, like this isn’t the best idea.”

“Not that, this! Standing on solid stone! In the wind! And the snow!” Spidey jumped up and down a little to emphasise each point, but stopped at a stronger blast of wind. Typical Manehattan weather patrol. They always said they were going to fix the shifting pressure that caused this sort of thing, but they never did. “In spandex!”

“Don’t forget the oh-so-fashionable accoutrement,” Johnny smirked, gesturing to the grumbling web-slinger’s back as he hefted the Santa sack full of The Plan.

“Like you even know what that word means.”

Johnny frowned.

“What was the big delay anyway?” Spidey asked over the subtle _thwip thwip thwip_ of his web shooters. “This was _your_ idea.”

“I got...distracted.”

The Torch scratched absently at where he was pretty sure that one filly at Spark Tower had left a lipstick mark. He dimly recalled said lips being the same shade of blue as this one poison Diablo had whipped up once. Clearly he'd had no choice but to risk it all for the hopes and dreams of all mistletoe meeters everywhere!

His face wrinkled, still managing to look cover photo worthy even as he looked on in disgust at what Peter was weaving. “Do you _have_ to do that in front of people?”

“Oooh, what’re they gonna do, ban me from the cartoon?” Spidey jumped in place again to test the sturdiness of his web-skis, and tossed his collaborator a web harness. “Do me a favour and get un-distracted? The job you wanna pull, we’re gonna need some of that Fantastic Focus you’re so renowned for.”

Johnny harrumphed, shooting twin bursts of flame out his nose as a prelude to igniting. He took to the air, towing the web-slinger behind him back to the city like a holiday themed cover for a heavy metal album. Under the mask, Peter Trotter actually smiled, partly from the welcome warmth, but mostly the mental image of Ferocious Flattop’s face if he could see this. Eat your heart out, Father Hearth's Warming.

Then they were racing among the towers of Manehattan. It was like they’d passed through a wave, and suddenly found a whole different universe on the other side. A universe of golden windows in dark concrete, and looming half glimpsed billboards, the colours of Hearths Warming strewn between ledges. And all of it set against the streaming snow.

It was breath taking. But the two ponies had been running their mouths almost longer than they’d had super powers. The moment didn’t last.

“Nopony appreciates genius anymore!” the Torch called over the wind, blasting synchronised flames out his hooves for ad hoc retro thrusters. Not to rip off Iron Mage’s shtick, but so he could tow his buddy and not, y’know, burn him alive with his usual contrail at the same time. “Where’s that Hearth's Warming spider-spirit?”

“Left it back at the Barn half an hour ago.”

Spidey reflexively twisted gently in the wind now and again, the proportionate agility of a spider syncing him up with the Torch’s movements as they began to turn into the big arc that would take them towards Embassy Row.

Johnny had to focus on quite a bit to keep his passenger airborne and both thrusters perfectly equal, but couldn’t resist a cocky, anime over the shoulder glance to flash his trademark grin. While aflame, it was like a small sun starring in its own toothpaste commercial.

“So why’re you still here?”

“...just drive. If we pull this off, it’ll be a miracle.”

[ _2_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTMh_ny9dIs)

“A furshlugginer miracle I tells ya!” Grim Skies announced to no one. “Busiest night of the year and I gots the place all to myself!”

The retro modern penthouse of the Baxter Barn should have been lonely, what with only his faithful (super-sized and re-enforced) Barcalounger for company by the fire, but leave it to Susie to make the joint look good just in time for the holidays.

She’d convinced Stretch to gussy up some of his whatchamacallits in Hearths Warming colours. The result was the place looked mostly the same, but in the rich greens, golds and reds of the holiday. A cheerful but still classy version of itself that managed to feel homey and warm, even with the king-sized windows out onto the dark and cold of the city. Its lights added to the effect, even!

The ever lovin’ blue eyed Thing, the size of a runaway bus and with hooves like an avalanche of cinder blocks each, honest to goodness spun in place like some Bridleway musical to take it all in.

“No pandemonium, no punks and _no_ pranks!”

The sounds of the fire and his favourite jazz records agreed by subtly becoming even more soothing. Paradise. This was almost better than what he’d spent the months since Nightmare Night dreaming of. An honest to gosh [i]break. [/i]

H.E.R.B.I.E. had long since finished sprucing up for and after various visitors bearing gifts, and tucked himself away for the night. If the little floating trash can could see what Grim had done to the kitchen, while preparing a sandwich with the ingredients of a hundred gift baskets, he would have stayed there forever or self-destructed. Either thought brought a smile to the Thing’s craggy features.

“Let the Bic-head and the bug run around in the snow!” he told the sandwich, lowering himself into the chair. “It’s just you ’n' me, gorgeous. Nothin’ and nopony’s gonna ruin this night.”

If the Barcalounger had lungs to warn its rocky owner of the glitter bomb, treacherously hidden under its cushion a few hours ago, it would have been screaming.

_3_

Somewhere dank and medieval, heavy on the evil. Lots of shades of green, particularly the story high stained glass windows. Each pane distorted the cityscape outside into something else. Here, an evil forest of angry fist drunkenly thrust to the sky. There, the jaws of some grotesque sea monster. You really didn’t want to see what they did to Coney Island.

Spider-Pony wondered idly if what the place really needed was some plants. Then again, given the owner, what kind of plants? Everfree-esque, probably. Something pony-eating and cliché.

He may only have been contemplating something so…avant-garde because the low, constant buzz of his Spider-Sense was gradually vibrating his brain to pulp. His instincts were just trying to cope with the feeling of said owner’s magic etched into every surface, like an office kleptophobic given a label maker.

Usefully so, though! All he had to do was crawl along the ceiling, guide the Torch around the areas that made his head _scream_ , and voilà! Useful for avoiding security spells, or knowing when a fun sized metal monster is about to turn the corner, _like right now._

_******* _

The Gloam Golem marched along its beat, green energy swirling inside its skull and out through its hoof print eyes, illuminating the badge carved into its chassis, the face of its owner. Johnny enjoyed undermining the effect by burning smiley faces or rude messages into them. But tonight, he was taking the subtler approach and pacing himself.

Which tonight meant, yeah, okay, hiding in a broom closet. As if he actually had to change into costume! Like some sort of _Peter!_ What kind of self-respecting evil overlord didn’t deck his halls with suits of armour you could hide in?!

That was cool. That was cool. He would pay.

_ ******* _

For his part, Peter was splitting his focus between his Spidey-Sense and wondering just what an evil overlord used to polish all that stone and steel anyway. Since this closet was evil by association, was there an evil linen cupboard somewhere? Did he have fabric softener for the cape?

After a beat, the pressure in his brain eased up as the Golem trotted off to make like an abstract conversation piece and lower the tone in a different corridor. Spidey did that quick little _move on_ hoof wave he’d seen in the movies, and they slunk out into the relatively less musty open air.

“Well getting in sure was easy enough,” he whispered dryly, suppressing a shiver at the memory of all those other green glows moving in the dark as they’d made their way through the halls. “Now we just have to stay in one piece long enough to get out...”

He silently sprang to another wall. Crawling was a comfort thing sometimes. He looked back to make sure Johnny was doing what he’d thought he was doing but still had to ask. “What’re you doing?”

“Hmm?” The Torch glanced up from a fancy 4 emblazoned pocket watch and took advantage of the lighting to make his grin that little bit more sinister. “Checking on a special delivery.”

_[4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnzyzXjZwTk) _

The Thing just sat there. In his chair. With his sandwich. Still half way to his mouth.

Around him, a typhoon of confetti settled into slow swirls from inside a snow globe. One of them wafted down like a cinder from a jovial volcano eruption, and draped itself lazily on his nose. Stony blue eyes crossed to take it in: a flaming chibi pony head, wearing a Santa hat, and its tongue out to razz all the world.

“I hate that kid so much I scare myself sometimes,” he told the sandwich.

_5_

They knew they were getting close when things became more industrial. A sign of the enemy showing off his genius. And, according to Spider-Sense, when the security spells started to become even more terrifying. A sure sign of somepony with an image to protect.

At last, they emerged from a sewer like tunnel into a cathedral like chamber, and beheld the target.

“See?” Johnny whispered, raising one flaming hoof higher to better illuminate their quarry. “Horrifying!”

“It’s worse than you described!” Dangling upside down from a web-line, the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Pony dramatically punched a clenched hoof into the pad of his open one. “It’s going to take the two of us to expunge this evil, old chum!”

“What,” the Torch grumbled, “you can use expunge but I can’t know accoutrement?”

“Hush, I’m speechifying.” Spidey flipped to the floor, all the better for shaking a hoof at the statue looming over them. “It’s a threat! It’s a menace!”

As one they tugged the sack open, The Plan glinting within. A determined Spidey shared a glance with a mischievous Torch.

“It’s gotta go.”

“Dang, Pete, you’re so punk, I love it.”

**Steps One through Two of The Plan**   
Step One: break into the Lashverian embassy undetected.  
Step Two: _Muahahaha!_

[ _6_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyWPzEjcCGE)

“Sorry ’bout the impromptu mess, doll face,” the Thing said. He was gesturing for the late guest to come in, honest, but it looked more like he’d buzzed her up and thrown the door wide to display the confetti mountain that had become of his sanctuary. “Though to be honest, I’d almost forgotten anypony was comin’ over.”

After all these years as a pile of fossilised cookies his first instinct was still to offer a wing to take her coat. But that wasn’t an option. Dad-blasted cosmic rays. Still, it hadn’t been all bad. Sometimes, after all the fights and flights (often happening at the same time) to far off lands and other planes of existence, they occasionally got visited by a class act like the web-head’s aunt.

“Honestly Grim Skies, how many years does an old mare have to make the rounds before it sinks in: the best gifts are those given in person.”

May Reilly bustled her way into the penthouse as though she were at least two decades younger. Her old fur overcoat didn’t have a hope of slowing her down and, even though he tried to keep up so he could at least help with the mountain of packages on her back, the Thing would’ve been almost scared to try. Maybe it was the fact she reminded him of his sweet aunt Petunia.

May had the coat in his hooves and the gifts neatly arranged on the table faster than any of Reed’s gizmos could ever hope to. Her eyes drifted over to the parade float that had been his chair. “The place looks...festive but lonely. Is it just you tonight?”

“Ah Stretch ’n' Susie had some fancy schamncy shindig to sit in on.” Grim waved it off, his hoof making a scraping sound like pebbles falling down some stairs. “And the matchstick’s probably playin’ walkin’ nightlight for your nephew somewhere.”

“Such good boys!” May said, beaming.

The Thing had gone hoof to hoof with heavy weights like the Shy-Hulk (nopony ever let him forget about the freakin’ Shy-Hulk), the Dragoon, and Mr. hoity toity Imperious Rex himself. Those were all pillow fights compared to how much effort it took him not to laugh at that.

“Eh, good at makin’ a mess, maybe.” He at least managed to pull a chair out for her. “I gotta lot to be thankful for May, don’t get me wrong, but I like to take a holiday on the holidays. Let the youngsters have their holly ’n' jolly.”

“So you won’t be wanting a little company and comestibles while cleaning up?”

She unsealed the tupperware lid on top of the pile. _Cookies._

“Well. Might be nice to break out the old Parcheesi set...”

He took a bite. Sold immediately.

“Mmm, mandelbrodt!”

_7_

“Victory never tasted so sweet.”

Johnny realised he was doing the hooves on hips thing, like he was Reed’s age or something, and immediately adopted a smug folded forelegs pose to continue admiring their handiwork. Foregoing the giant novelty antlers had been the right move, but he’d adamantly (and, security conscious, quietly) put his hoof down about the red nose.

Spidey nodded, decoration lights and the macabre shadows of the embassy playing over his mask. “And to think I almost didn’t come.”

“How come?” Johnny turned to look at his bud as they came out of the tunnel—

  
Spider-Sense!

  
—which meant he didn’t see the rapidly approaching green light from above.

Spider-Pony went from tensing up to springing towards his pal like uncoiling steel in seconds, Spider-Speed’s usual disregard for physics. The impact sent them both spinning down the hall in a rolling bundle like something out of Discord’s idea of a pin ball game, only their tails telling which blurring tangle of limbs belonged to which.

On the plus side, they went rolling out of the descending Gloam Golem’s impact range. On the down side, they only stopped because they struck the hooves of another Golem. With more and more green eyes flickering out of the shadows, as if they’d been surrounded by a ring of malevolent trick birthday candles.

“Because I was expecting something like _this_ to happen,” Spidey muttered as they took up a back to back position. “Something like this always happens.”

“Ah c’mon,” Johnny grinned as he reignited, “you know it’s just not Hearth's Warming without that one last thing you remember you just have to take care of!”

_8_

It wasn’t even a block to the closest subway, but Grim still insisted on walking May out of the Baxter Barn. It seemed a crummy thing to do to just use his _4_ crest whatchamacallit to activate the penthouse lift and send her down all those floors alone.

“Take care, doll face!” he rumbled cheerfully as they reached the entrance. “I’d escort ya home as is benefitin’ of a gentleman of my breedin’ but...”

“But anypony who can whoop you good at that many rounds of Parcheesi can look after herself, yes?” Sometimes it wasn’t so hard to believe she was related to that wall crawling clown. But that twinkle in her eye really could’ve come from his own sweet aunt Petunia.

“We’ll see ’bout that next year’s rematch!” That trademark faux bravado was flattened out of his smile by something more genuine. “But seriously, doll, thanks. It was a pleasure.”

May’s eyes twinkled some more, and the Thing felt the atmospheric charge that meant she was gearing up for one of those Trotter family soliloquies. All the fault of her late husband, apparently, but in her defence, he’d swear her nephew’s had become even more cornball since he’d started mixing with that Ponyville crowd.

“Well, Grimwald, we’ve both been around for a while now.”

“And don’t the squirts like remindin’ me...”

“But that means we both know that, even if you’re not all that lonely, sometimes the best gift a pony can give is their company.”

Okay, that one actually wasn’t so bad. Then she gave the big galoot a kiss on the cheek. His rocky hide even flushed a little!

“Ah, go on an' get outta here with that talk before somepony sees. I got’s me a reputation to maintain!”

Although. It had been an awful lot of floors for him to cover as well. Perhaps he’d had more to say than just goodbye.

“Then I suppose there’s nothing left to say except have a happy Hearths Warming!” May chuckled as she waved goodbye and began the climb down to the ocean of late party goers, shoppers and street performers.

“You too doll face, and don’t worry, I will!” His wave was heartfelt and cheerful and his grin was heartfelt, tombstone like, and malevolent. “The kid doesn’t know what I planted in _his_ room.”

[ _9_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNTZdkkpjyc)

Eight whole city blocks. That was how long it took them to lose the herd of weapons grade junk. The Horseshoe Torch half glided, half wobbled through the air, his flames rapidly growing and shrinking in time with his laboured breathing.

“Well...well that was...” a blur that looked like Peter was trying to say, as it sprawled on top of an air conditioning unit.

“Engaging?” Jonny wheezed. “Gratifying? Dare we say…woo...fun?” A lot more articulate than his lungs were capable of at this point, and yeah, nerdy, but that accoutrement crack had really stung.

“I was...gonna go with...disastrous…” Spidey realised cold metal was not the best place to collapse, and managed to force himself to all fours. “And a border line...ngh…act of war, but what’s the difference?”

“And here comes the soliloquy,” Johnny rolled his eyes, floating casually in mid-air as though resting on an inflatable pool chair. With his breathing now under control, he could feel that tell tale atmospheric charge. “Seriously, what is it with your family?”

Spidey’s chest puffed out a little, although maybe that was just from all the hard breathing.

“I’m just saying, this is the season where everypony gets to have a little me time.” He honestly looked down at his hooves, contemplatively. “If we’re gonna pull on the union suits, it’d be nice if we could at least try and make the world a better place for a change.”

The two casually tossed each other gifts without much change in demeanour.

“And that’s why we’ll be doing the same thing next year.”

“Of course,” Spidey said without missing a beat. “Darksied?”

“Oooh, a challenge!”

They dove off the roof in opposite directions, Johnny flaming on and heading for uptown, Spidey swinging for the low roofs of Chelsea. The crowds below only saw multi-coloured blurs, but heard the twin cries.

“Happy Hearth's Warming, flame-brain!”

“Happy Hearth's Warming, web-head!”

It didn’t matter that Johnny knew that Peter’s gift would be a fire extinguisher. It didn’t matter that Peter knew that Jonny’s gift would be a can of bug spray. The fact both still smelt like they’d just come from a Home Depot added to it if anything. Sometimes the best gift two super powered misfits like them could give each other was just their company.

_10_

The lights were still on in the penthouse. Johnny had been expecting to have to use the bay doors of the weird silo thing River had bolted onto the side of the building when they moved in, but he wasn’t about to complain. He flamed off and tapped his emblem to the matching sigil etched into the glass patio doors.

“Aw man,” he pouted as they slid open “, you cleaned up already?”

“Yup.” Grim Skies, clad in bathrobe and bunny slippers as if to rub it in, glanced up from his paper and over his tiny reading glasses, which were very definitely meant to rub it in. “Had a helpin’ hoof. Yer coco was all me though, not that I’m expectin’ so much as a thank you.”

“Uh huh.” Johnny squinted as he hung his _4_ emblem and yoke on the coat rack. “What’d you put in it?”

The Thing snorted with a force that could have driven twin holes in a wall, and went back to his paper. After several pokes satisfying him it wasn’t going to explode, Johnny took a nonplussed sniff.

“Huh,” he concluded, “this is coco.”

“Still had some of them fancy Wakandan beans,” Grim rumbled. “It’ll be cold now, though.”

“Oh no,” Johnny deadpanned, holding a hoof to the bottom of the mug and filling the room with another wonderful holiday aroma, “whatever shall I do.”

The penthouse was full of nothing but the mellow sounds of the Thing’s old man music as he took an appreciative sip.

“You know that little surprise wasn’t anything personal, right? Y’know, _this time._ Every year you just seem so determined to sit around here and, I dunno, grow moss or whatever it is you do. Figured you could use something festive.”

“An’ for this you think I would do a thing like ruin your coco?”

“It’s what I would do,” Johnny called back as he crossed the hall to his room. The Thing shook his head ruefully.

“Happy Hearth's Warming, ya little punk.”

“Happy Hearth's Warming, you big stiff.”

The high flying Horseshoe Torch lounged contentedly on his king sized bed, completely unaware of the glitter bomb hidden inside his alarm clock, set to go off tomorrow twenty minutes early.

And the one in his shower head. And his shaving foam. And most of his favourite mane and tail products.

_[11](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypeegdF7GyM) _

The lights were on in his apartment. Spidey felt an odd mixture of ice cold shock and that holiday night exhaustion. He alighted on the fire escape railing, hefting the somehow always paintstuck living room window open, and clambered inside.

“Poison Pony, I swear if this is you trying to be subtle again...” he called slipping off his scarf, and immediately shut up.

“Hello dear,” his aunt and his girlfriend said in near perfect unison from his couch.

“Aunt May? Twilight?” Spider-Pony reached up and peeled off the mask to reveal the surprised, smiling face of Peter Trotter. “Can I get you--well, you’ve already made yourselves coffee, your gifts are just down the hall? Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting--”

“Neither was I!” Twilight Sparkle trotted over to give him a hug, then fussed over his scarf, her horn glowing and restoring some of the fading thermal magic. “But I wanted to surprise you anyway, and bumped into your aunt on the subway, and, well, ooh, who enchanted this, Gem Stone? This is some nice spell weaving.”

“Twilight and her friends want to invite us to a little shindig,” Aunt May explained.

“In Ponyville?” Peter squinted as he shucked out of the rest of the costume “I was going to bug someone in the business to fly or teleport me over tomorrow…”

“At the library, yes!” Twilight beamed. “Pinkie Pie said she’d be ‘super duper Jupiter trooper prepared’ to fetch you herself but I figured it’d be, um, easier on everypony if I just set up a teleportation tunnel between here and town! What?”

Peter was looking at her as he threw his scarf back around his neck. “You can do that?”

“Oh sure! Like this!”

Both Earth Ponies jumped slightly as the unicorn’s horn tore a gaping purple hole in reality. Spike looked up guiltily from where he’d been smuggling excess tiny hay dogs.

“Sorry, it is a little loud isn’t it? But as long as one of our belongings is in either of our homes I can create a simple lay line to teleport myself along to either location…”

“…and the larger, more visible tunnel is so you can carry passengers or larger loads?” Peter finished, waving at a distant Derpy Hooves. “You’re amazing! I totally need to take readings when we go through! Maybe some of our mane samples! Did you whip this up by yourself?”

Twilight blushed and kicked at the floor with one hoof. “Oh, you know, just spoke to Cadence about…stuff and the Princess had these notes on a kind of glass that could be enchanted to bend between realities and, well, we’re always going to be so busy. You have your responsibilities and all…”

Peter was startled by a sudden weight on his back. He turned to find Aunt May loading him up with their gifts, and giving him a meaningful look. He smiled and took Twilight’s hoof.

“I’m never too busy to spend time with you, Twilight. Especially not tonight. And how could we say no to something this thoughtful?”

“Yes, it’s not like you want to prove that Grinch you work for right, is it?”

He smiled as she leaned against his chest.

“Also, please do not tell Rainbow Dash I set up a teleportation tunnel between here and town, I really, really don’t want to race her, or make her think she can tap into this Speed Force nonsense she keeps going on about, and also what if we fall out of the tunnel and get swept away into The Bleed...”

“No problem, hon.” Peter just patted her shoulder.

“I also might be saving it to wreak my grim vengeance for that time she pranked me into thinking I accidentally loaned out all my books.”

“Lie to your friends and love ones on your behalf. Got it.”

Aunt May elbowed him in the ribs as the violet radiance and smell of hot coco enveloped them all.

_12_

Hearths Warming morning. The light of the rising sun did not reach the Lashverian embassy’s windows, and its warmth wouldn’t have reached the Baroness Von Bardas’ heart even if she hadn’t been stone cold terrified. You didn’t become the last holdout of Lashverian aristocracy by frolicking in the woods with bunnies and grandmothers. You also didn’t stay alive by failing the will of Gloam. Like, say, allowing two intruders to do…this.

She turned, ready to screech at the Golems again, and froze. The metal face of Dr. Gloam was right behind her.

“My lord...” Von Bardas began.

The doctor glided past her like she wasn’t even there, stopping at the base of the target. It had been a statue of Gloam himself, the centre piece of the chamber intersecting all public parts of the embassy, built to let everypony of this backwater know just who’s domain they were entering.

Now, with the application of a small fortune in Hearth's Warming decorations and red paint, it looked like a king-sized Father Hearth's Warming decoration. The defilers had even ringed the upper levels of the chamber with tinsel and wrapping paper, but the stand out was easily the plate of cookies and note left at the base.

With the hum of servos in Gloam’s armour, almost as cold and serpentine as it’s owner’s rage, a green glow levitated the note up to eye level.

_Dear Gloomy,_

_Didn’t see you at the last super party._ (ending with a frowny face) _So we decided to bring the party to you! (_ ending with a smiley face!) _Who knows, maybe a little cheer will make a big difference in you._

_Enjoy the cookies!_

A gauntlet slammed down on the plate, the sound of steel on mere porcelain echoing like a cannon shot. The Baroness was too terrified to even flinch.

“Burn it,” the dictator said simply.

“At once, lord!” the Baroness squeaked, trying not to shuffle away too quickly.

Gloam simply stood there, the iron clad embodiment of a bitterness that would grind Equestria and everywhere like it to the same grey ash as its own heart. Then lifted something up into the darkness of his hood. There was the sound of chewing.

“Mmm. Mandelbrodt.”

* * *

[ **GLOSSARY** ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/144nGGI-sKbzpCVkvBh1kCXsfJ7tdUZl05s4lQQa9-HA/edit?usp=sharing)


	2. Sense and Flammability (1)

_1 _

“So pizza face is the Spider-Pony?”

Twilight Sparkle looked up from Ridcully the Brown’s _A Hundred and One Uses for a Pocket Dimension Inside Yer Hat_ and pouted at Rainbow Dash, sprawled upside down on one of the library’s bean bag chairs because reading like a normal pony was for squares.

“Rainbow! Don’t call him that!”

“Okay, okay, your colt friend…is the Spider-Pony?”

“He doesn’t like the ‘The” Spike said, looking up from dusting a horsehead bust, “says without a prefix it looks like he’s trying to make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay. Cool. Did he have that thing on his face before or after he got all spidery?”

“Before,” Twilight said primly. “ _I_ happen to think it makes him look rather distinguished. And yes, Peter is Spider-Pony. This is why I invited him and his aunt over for Hearth's Warming, so I could tell everypony at once! Well, in private of course, but you and Applejack were busy trying to see who could balance on top of the tree the longest.”

“Too busy having fun at a party.” Rainbow flipped a page, probably for the appearance of nonchalance. “Only in your universe, Twilight. Though, ya landed not just a coltfriend but a super pony at that, so props I guess.”

“Thanks. There’s honestly only so many times you can team up, that’s the costumed communities term for it I believe, before you realise you have more in common than just stopping a necronuclear reactor from melting down.” Twilight was slightly proud of herself for not blushing. Much. “You’re taking it pretty well. Not so much as a wing flap!”

“Eh. I mean sure, the Web-Head was cooler back when he was a mystery and all, but Pete’s a good dude. If he’s helpin’ ponies in his free time, it just means he’s an even better dude.”

Twilight smiled at that.

“And if things get too boring,” Rainbow continued, “we can spice 'em up betting on what kinda drama the two of you'll get yourselves into!”

Twilight stopped smiling. “Drama? What drama, there’s no drama, why does there have to be drama, who said there’d be drama?!”

“Uh, the universe?” Dash rolled her eyes. She was never going to find out who cut Daring’s rope in chapter twelve at this rate! “You’re a couple of dorks with magic powers, one of you has a rogues gallery, the other prevents the apocalypse, like, every other Tuesday. Stuff’s gonna happen.”

“Is not!” Twilight countered, drawing on everything her mentor had taught her since she was eight years old. “And besides Zecora has this one text that leads me to believe Peter’s abilities may be more totemistic in nature than regularly mystic, bu-but that is beside the point! I--we are simply a couple of regular ponies surrounded by extraordinary events and stuff is most certainly _not_ going to happen to us! I find your assertions presumptuous and slapdash at best, Rainbow Dash!”

“I think I’m gonna barf,” Spike said simply.

“Indeed, Spike! Indeed!”

“No, I mean we’ve got inco--” Both girls flinched as he spontaneously hacked the royal scroll out of a burst of emerald flame. Twilight got to enjoy the karma of it bouncing off Rainbow’s face before catching it in her telekinesis.

“It’s from Princess Celestia!”

“No foolin’,” Dash muttered, rubbing her forehead.

_“To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle,”_ Twilight read, _“I hope this letter finds you and your friends well, especially after helping restore the Crystal Empire. Yes Spike, the crown is_ still _aware of the vital role you played, and we are_ still _very proud of you. That is why we built you that window.”_

Spike’s fins blushed.

_“‘Once again you have all honoured Equestria through the magic of Friendship, but events have made me nostalgic for simpler, though no less interesting, times before you set off into the world. While I couldn’t be prouder of the way you’ve made for yourself I would be honoured if you could join me tomorrow in the royal gardens for a spot of tea and catching up.’_ Gosh!”

“I’ll grab our rail passes!” Spike beamed. “Uh…Twilight? You okay?”

_“Oh PS;”_ Twilight croaked, _“I hope you don’t mind if I take the liberty of inviting your young colt along. Cadence told me about him when we shared a copy of the Derby Bugle and it would be wonderful to hear how the two of you found the Magic of Friendship with each other…and perhaps more!”_

“Okay, why the shellshock?” Rainbow asked. “Is Pete allergic to tea or something.”

“My mentor wants to meet my boyfriend.” Twilight’s purple pupils were tiny now. “The pony who taught me everything I know wants to meet my boyfriend. My mentor. Who is the government. My boyfriend. Who is a vigilante.”

“So?”

“I haven’t even told my parents about Peter yet!”

“And so, it begins,” Dash leered, closing her book.

_ [ 2 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsdy_rct6uo) _

“So Princess Girlfriend enslaved a dragon? Because not gonna lie, that’s pretty metal.”

The Horseshoe Torch barrel rolled lazily in mid-air as a wrecking ball bludgeoned the airspace he’d been occupying seconds earlier.

“He’s more like a…little brother/butler?” Spider-Pony mulled Spike over as he fired off a web-line from his tail, yanking away a manhole cover and leaving a charging Bulldozer a nice long plummet into the sewers. “I dunno man, there’s a lot going on there. Also, could we maybe not have this private conversation in the middle of a public brawl?”

“Oh yeah, because if anyone’s gonna pay attention it’s the Wrecking Crew.” Johnny took a second out of lobbing fireballs to wave to the leader, resplendent in his purple sock mask and angrily waving his crowbar. “Hey Wrecker, what were we _just_ talking about?”

“WE’RE GONNA PULVERISE YOUSE!”

“See?”

“Hey, credit where it’s due,” Spidey shrugged, “Thunderball’s got a PhD.”

“Indeed, fools!” the villain bellowed as he whipped his wrecking ball around for another swing “A PhD _in pain_!”

The two heroes pulled the fastest limbo poses of their lives to avoid the shot. Piledriver, still trapped in a flash-melted section of street, yelped as the chain yanked taut, the ball stopping inches from his face.

“Though it makes you wonder,” Spidey mused, flipping over the chain as it rewound, “what kind of pain precisely?”

Thunderball stopped winding up, squinting. “What…?”

“Oh y’know, just what _kind_ of pain,” the Torch shrugged, casually hovering in mid-air. “Like, sure, the giant namesake packs a mean wallop but is physical pain the most nuance a bull of your calibre is capable of?”

“What about emotional?” Spidey concurred.

“Spiritual?”

“Dental?”

“Ocular?”

“Ocular?!” Thunderball repeated.

“Ocular,” the Torch said and flared white hot. Thunderball cried out, recoiling from the strobe effect. Blinded and enraged he charged at where he remembered the two pests had been. And vanished down the still open manhole.

“And she’s not a princess,” Spidey said as though nothing had happened. He looked askance at a bent lamp post. “Yet. Her mentor on the other hoof…”

“Are you sure that invite came from her?”

“It was sitting on my kitchen table in a beam of sunlight. With sparkles and tiny birds.”

“Oof,” Johnny winced, sending a puff of sparks from between his teeth. “Bluebirds?”

“They actually cleaned the kitchen!”

“Yeah, that’s her touch alright. Sousa tried to find out if she could get a tiny legion to vacuum the house because she can’t admit H.E.R.B.I.E. creeps her out like the rest of us, but he found out and ran to Reed and cried. It was great.”

“So what happened to them?”

“Dunno. Our pigeons probably ate them or something. Anyway, what’s the deal? Your every third pity party is about how you could get a little more recognition. Princess Celestia’s, like, the definition of recognition.”

“Right, but she didn’t ask for her Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Pony.” Spidey demonstrably tugged his mask’s muzzle as far as it would go before letting it snap back into place. “She asked for me. For the real guy. I haven’t even met Twilight’s actual parents yet!”

“Okay, not touching that one,” the Torch said calmly holding up a hoof. “So you’re looking for what? A pep talk? A wing pony? Somepony with experience in royalty mingling and medal acceptance?”

“A new suit.” Peter actually rubbed the back of his neck like something out of Sue’s Neighponese anime. “Like a for real suit for grown up pony things.”

Johnny raised one perfect golden eyebrow. “Go on…”

“The All-Mother asked me over for tea,” Peter shrugged, “I need to make a good first impression. You’re you and so have, in this order, the ego, connections, and fashion sense I need to do it in like a day. Begging is optional.”

“You’re right,” Johnny agreed, admiring his flaming reflection in the puddle from a smashed hydrant, “I _am_ me.”

“Johnny!”

“Sure, sure. Ugh, you second tier heroes and your ‘real world problems’. We’ll swing by Saddle Row when we’re done here.” He frowned. “I feel like we’re forgetting something.”

“Spider-Sense! Ting-!”

Too late! The force of the Wrecker bursting out the bank’s remaining wall sent them both tumbling down the street like leaves in a gale. An abandoned delivery cart helpfully let them stop by smacking into it.

“Are you two twerps still here?!” The Wrecker irritably released the pallets of gold bars he’d been carrying _on his back_ and put a hoof to his mouth for a sharp whistle.

An annoyed looking Piledriver burst up through his prison, standing on the shoulders of the equally irritated Thunderball and Bulldozer. The Wrecker sat on his haunches, doing the old pat-the-crowbar-into-your-hoof routine as they advanced on the heroes.

Spider-Pony sprung back up into one of those creepy signature crouches, ready for the next round, but shot the still recovering Johnny a look nervous about prospects beyond just going hoof-to-hoof with four bulls strong enough to fight the Mighty Sleipnir to a standstill.

“After the other thing?”

“Right,” Johnny muttered, cracking his neck and reigniting, “after the other thing.”

_3_

Rarity flung herself behind the overturned fainting couch and quickly smoothed down her mane. Behind her the sound of extra-large Milliners needles clashing off each other intensified as the animated captain dress uniforms attempted to capture more of the boutique’s floor space from the insolent lieutenant dress uniforms.

“How are we doing? It’s just that Fluttershy bought me those to make up for that Iron Will incident and I’d hate for them to get all scratched.”

“Still warming up, sorry!” Twilight’s eyes were only ever-so-slightly glowing as she glanced up from the sewing machine. “It’s not this tea thing, I swear I’m focused, it’s just the sounds of battle are really loud and it’s like I’m channelling a lot of not-exactly-life force here, you know?”

“Oh no, no, take your time Twilight,” Rarity soothed “We wouldn’t want to cast an imperfect spell and turn my entire shop into a smoking crater!”

“Yes! I’m absolutely not now thinking about that in addition to how to contain and counteract an ancient animation spell, which is still like juggling nitroglycerine by the way, keeping this infernal machine _still_ so I can examine it, and remaining neutral in the middle of this war zone!”

Overhead one of the needles pinwheeled into the wall with a ruler-on-school-desk juddering sound. Twilight yelped at the noise then at the sewing machine’s latest bid for freedom! Rarity wrapped her telekinesis around both, a helpful gesture that turned out to be as useful as trying to stop a runaway freight train with a strip of flypaper.

Fortunately, she’d ordered some Yakyakistanian cotton and hadn’t accounted for the size difference in species. The entire boutique reverberated as they ploughed into the bridge pylon sized rolls, the air almost rippling with the sudden inertia.

“Why can’t I just set them on fire and be done with it again?” Twilight mumbled out the side of her mouth that wasn’t face down in the (admittedly quite cosy) debris.

“Twilight, no!” Rarity cried as she surfaced, clutching the dazed sewing machine “I tried to take the easy way out with your brother’s order and look what happened! If I’d just had the courage to say no to him! And all my other customers! But mostly? That _frightful_ Mr. Curio when he offered me this blasted thing!”

Her heart skipped slightly as the sewing machine rounded on her, almost sending its needle up her nose! Twilight pulled herself to all fours but hesitated. Maybe it was proximity after running their magic through it, but they could almost feel something approaching an emotion swirling inside it like smoke.

“I think it heard you…” Twilight murmured, sealing them off from the sound and danger of the battle inside a force field.

“I think it recognised the name,” Rarity agreed, never taking her eyes off the screws that, if one squinted, almost functioned as the machine’s own. “Curio?” she repeated “Uncle Curio? Oh! Once for yes, twice for no! Do you recognise that name? Can you understand us?”

They instinctively flinched as the machine’s needle clattered out a quick, hard clack!

“It’s alive!” cried Twilight. “Well, okay, yes, we knew that and that it brings all these clothes to life, hence our current predicament, but gosh, I didn’t know it was sentient! No wonder it put up such a fight! We haven’t been trying to shut off its magic, we’ve been trying to shut off its mind!”

“Poor thing!” Rarity cooed, giving the machine’s surface a stroke. Somewhere Opal snarled deep within her tiny shrivelled soul. “I’ve been horrible to you, haven’t I? Dumping all that work on you and blaming you for it going wrong…”

One somehow emphatic clack.

“Hmph! Well I certainly didn’t tell you to bring them alive and start this, this, this…!”

“Donnybrook?” Twilight suggested.

“Hmm, yes, that sounds about right. How very dare you suggest-!”

“Actually,” Twilight cut in quickly, “that’s a good point. Rarity put you to work on Shining Armour’s commission. They’re supposed to be for the new Crystal Guard, right?”

One curious clack.

“Well their captain wouldn’t want the ranks rioting like this! Unless he wasn’t joking about that hoofball team idea…did you intend for this to happen?”

Two clacks.

“I don’t think it…um…they? Can help it,” Rarity mused.

One clack.

“I mean, it’s a magic sewing machine,” she continued. “Why build something this elegantly simple unless you intended to make magical clothing and bring it to life?”

Two clacks. The girls exchanged looks.

“Not alive,” Twilight ventured, “or not magic clothing?”

One clack.

“Ooh, magic embroidery!” Rarity declared, her entire face lighting up with delight. “I know what we’re dealing with now! You remember all those stories about moving tapestries or floating carpets? Well, they had to come from somewhere! And to think! Such a historical artefact in my shop!”

The machine’s screws proudly spun in place to several satisfied clacks.

“Tapestries…” Twilight murmured, then comprehension dawned so powerfully on her face Rarity and the machine were surprised it didn’t come shooting out of her horn. “Of course! That’s why they’re fighting! They’ve been enchanted by the same magic that brings motion to the motionless like a magic tapestry, which yes, _thank_ you Rarity, I have heard of, in fact my junior thesis was on--no Twilight, focus! Whatever you say, Twilight! Uh, like a magic tapestry! Tapestries tell stories! Soldiers only really have one role in stories!”

“That still doesn’t explain _why_ they’re fighting though,” Rarity mused.

Twilight rubbed the magical equivalent of fog off the force field to make a porthole and squinted at the nearby lieutenant, pointlessly trying to choke out its also-neckless adversary captain. “Alright I’m not blaming anypony, but these uniforms have completely different emblems.”

“Creative differences,” Rarity said primly as she blushed. The sewing machine clacked to itself quietly in embarrassment.

“So we know what we’re dealing with,” Twilight diplomatically surmised, “we just don’t know how to stop it. Yet. Our options are either draining the magic out, which leaves us with the problem of where to put it, or try and get them to do something else that will, um, end their story. Also not to alarm anypony but it would probably be a good idea to lower this field soon because I maaay have lost track of how much oxygen is left. I really don’t know what to do.”

“I do!” Rarity tried to strike a dignified pose of triumph, made difficult by standing atop the shifting bales and holding the sowing machine under one foreleg. “We’re dealing with military men! Uh, suits! And there’s one order every military knows how to follow!”

Half an hour later they were sitting on the boutique’s stoop, watching the marching uniforms’ second circuit around the park. Their sleeves rose and fell sharply in time with Pinkie Pie’s obo/accordion/drum/kazoo rendition of _Radetzky March Party Remix ft DJPON3_ , the Cutie Mark Crusaders bouncing alongside like a candy coloured dolphin pod.

“Well _this_ will make for an interesting letter to Princess Celestia,” Rarity said as one of the lieutenants at the back mimicked the little skip in Sweetie Belle’s step.

“I could drop it off for you tomorrow,” Twilight muttered gloomily “It may get a little scorched when both my worlds collide and self-destruct, though.”

“You know I hate to pry,” Rarity half lied, “but is everything alright? Solving problems with _fire_ isn’t the Twilight Sparkle approach we’ve come to know and love. Is it the, as you put it, ‘tea thing?’”

“You and your detective novels,” Twilight smiled. “It’s silly, I’ve been having these meet ups with her since I was a little filly but I’ve…”

“You’ve never had a Peter Trotter before,” Rarity kindly surmised.

“Yes! It’s been wonderful but has it been too fast? Or-or-or has it been too long? Did I leave too much time to tell her? Does she feel like spending so much time with him means I’m shutting her out? How could I do that to her after everything she’s done for me, Rarity?!”

“Do what? Be her student and then graduate? Have your own life?” Rarity put a gentle hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Twilight, after what happened today, trust me when I say that it doesn’t pay to rush something, or put pressure on yourself to do too much at once. You’ve been Princess Celestia’s faithful student for almost your entire life. Dating is very new. It makes sense you’d be a little nervous.”

“Last time I was nervous about her it led to the whole Smarty Pants disaster,” Twilight mumbled.

“Oh shush, this isn’t nearly that bad!” Rarity gave her a supportive smile, though admittedly she did have to turn Twilight’s chin so they could make eye contact. “You’re just worried because you don’t know how it'll turn out, but these two ponies in your life have to meet sometime. If you feel the need to put it off until you’re more confident the Princess will understand, but wouldn’t it also be better to go through with tomorrow, and have it all be over with? At least you’ll know where you all stand.”

Twilight didn’t say anything, but she was at least smiling back.

“Besides,” Rarity teased now she felt it was appropriate, “what’s the poor boy going to do, take an unflattering photo of her?”

“That’s one advantage,” Twilight chuckled, “she already knows he’s with the press and wants to meet him anyway! Thanks Rarity. You’re right, best hoof forward!”

Rarity nodded, smiling and silently counting to three.

“I just worry about _him_ as well,” Twilight said at two. “I get so wrapped up in trying to make things perfect for her I forget how much pressure other ponies are putting on themselves to measure up! Peter doesn’t need that! He forgets my favourite filing method sometimes and gets this adorable, sad look on his face…”

“He did seem a smidge agitated about describing Spike’s position to his aunt,” Rarity agreed, “but she’s a lovely down to earth sort and she and the Princess lived through the same era. I’m sure he’s got some mannerisms she’ll find charming! Though he seems like one of those stallions who’s cute when they’re flustered.”

“Sometimes,” Twilight grinned, trying not to giggle. “I think it’s why we meet in town so much. Getting out of the city does him some good. But one minute we’ll be talking and then he’ll compare himself to one of his friends in the business and his ears droop a little and I’m not crying, I just still have some magic in my eye.”

“Darling, even I know there’s worse things in life than being a simply-okay photojournalist.” Rarity fought the urge to roll _her_ eyes at being back to square one. “Besides, that’s his job, not his passion! The two of you are so adorable when you’re talking about gibberish from some textbook, and the Princess taught you everything you know! A born teacher and a born teacher’s pet, you’ll probably have to let off fireworks to get their attention again!”

“Is that what you’re counting on for this pool Rainbow’s running?” Twilight asked dryly. She’d appreciated the sentiment, but not ‘gibberish’.

“I’m saving my bits for juicier options,” Rarity teased. “But you sound like you’re feeling better, all things considered. Perhaps because you’ve stopped over-considering them?”

“Your creative differences did wind up helping in the long view, yes.”

“Oh right,” Rarity frowned as the procession marched past on its fourth circuit, citizens still peering at it in terror from behind trays and stalls, “what happens to the sewing machine now? It’d feel too much like slavery to keep using it.”

“I wrote to some contacts in Canterlot,” Twilight assured. “They’ll take it to one of the university’s island research facilities. They’ll run some tests but let it mingle with other enchanted items, make some friends, maybe even some new tapestries for the palace walls. That kind of thing.”

“So a happy ending leads to a new beginning,” Rarity beamed.

“Hopefully. But you’re right, I should go ahead with it,” Twilight sighed. “Good thing Canterlot is the most heavily guarded city in Equestria, it’ll be so embarrassing if he guilts himself into swinging after a pickpocket like Deerdevil or something.”

“Is that the one who bursts into flames…?” Rarity ventured.

“No, that’s his other friend, the Horseshoe Torch? The one on all the magazine covers? One of the Fantastic Family?”

“Oh darling, I don’t pay much attention to even the best dressed of super ponies,” Rarity waved her hoof dismissively. “I have a life.”

“That’s one of the great things about this relationship,” Twilight beamed, “after all the adventures we’ve had, how could dating the Spectacular Spider-Pony phase any of you guys?”

“PETER TROTTER IS SPIDER-PONY?!”

_[ 4 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ofRApquSbw) _

“So how come I haven’t met her before now?”

“You have,” Peter said patiently, “she and her friends were part of the last two big Crises.”

“Pete,” Johnny countered, “those were two whole summers ago. Do you remember even half of everything that happens to you in a month?”

“Eidetic memory, so _yes_!”

“Yeah, well my days alone are more interesting than yours, and I don’t even have a luchador costume. Yet.” Johnny noticed a passing pony wondering why he was leaning against a wall talking to an apparently empty alleyway, and erased the gaffe from existence by flashing her a gentlemanly smile and a roguish wink. “Would you hurry up! Did you web yourself to the thing?”

“Name me one pony in the business who hasn’t mastered the quick change,” came Peter’s voice from somewhere up the wall, muffled by Manehattan’s constant background cacophony. “Just gotta smooth my tail back into shape.”

“Hey, if anypony respects proper tail maintenance it’s me,” Johnny called back, idly drumming a hoof on the sidewalk and sending up sparks, just because he could, “but you dress as a faceless nightmare covered in webs and the blood of your enemies. Your tail is the last thing ponies are thinkin’ about.”

“The blood of my enemies.” Peter’s unmasked and unamused face appeared around the corner, now at street level but sideways from crawling into position to give Johnny that deadpan look.

“Is what the tabloids think the red parts are,” Johnny siad, nodding. “See, this is why I say get your own marketing department, workshop your image a little, but you’re always like _‘But responsibility, though!’_ , and this is how the Crime King winds up with all your merchandising rights or whatever.”

“Like he wouldn’t just _buy_ the marketing department anyway.” Peter sprang off, twisting right side up in mere seconds of mid-air so he could ricochet off a paper vendor, and join his bud’s leisurely stroll. “Besides, the city’s institutionalised the lesser known and not-at-all great power of Spider-Scapegoatitude, and what the hay, it seems to make people happy. It’s Peter Trotter, lovable freelance shutterbug, who’s grooming in no way resembles that of a certain wondrous webspinner, that's in need of a makeover!”

“So you want people to like you in and out of costume, but you talk about it using the third person like a supervillain.”

“I did it with my real name too!”

“Healthy. And the fact you wanna introduce yourself to the original fairy godmother, but rocking a style that is blatantly not yours?”

“I referred to myself as a lovable freelance shutterbug. Clearly in need of all the help I can get.”

“Your funeral, man.”

“…do they make that kind of suit? Morbid and actual curiosity.”

“Their motto is _Look like death: sleek yet serine._ ”

“It’s not but should be?”

“See, you can be taught! Next item on the agenda; that thing on your face.”

“Weren’t you just busting on me, in your signature twisted style of affection, to be myself?”

“Go shallow or go home, Pete.”

“Twilight happens to think it makes me look distinguished.”

“ _Twilight Happens_ would be a great name for a band.”

“We turn twenty-five next year, Johnny. It’s time to let the dream go.”

This entire exchange took the time to enter the minimalist lobby and the somehow even moreso elevator. Peter looked at himself in the mirror like walls, wondering if making his reflection look Dalíesque and bored was intentional, magical, or janitorial.

Johnny let out a satisfied sigh as the doors slid open onto the temple like floor space. “Ah, chicness! Isn’t it just the best thing you ever smelt?”

“Noo…?” Peter hated himself a little for actually sniffing. “This place doesn’t smell like…anything.”

“ _Exactly._ ”

Customers roamed from displays to stalls to seats, mingled with staff wearing simple vest saddles that reminded the heroes of various futuristic dimensions they’d blundered into at one time or another, more the Torch’s beat than Spidey’s. Both often wondered why the multiverse’s idea of the future looked like it came from the set of a 60’s sci-fi show. Only Peter did it out loud. Johnny was too cool for that. Despite that trademark Manehattan bustle, the scale and aesthetics of the place seemed to blanket everything in a respectful libraryesque hush, so the boys drew all eyes when the Unicorn shot up from behind the front desk and made them yelp.

“Greetings, shoppers! So sorry, dropped my pen and it rolled under this tight bit in the corner, but we would like to assure you that such shenanigans are in no way indicative of _Sleek yet Serine's_ commitment to--oh tribulations and taffeta, it’s you.”

“Hi Sassy,” Johnny grinned. “Miss me?”

“Only because you were running away.” Sassy Saddle’s posture somehow drooped, as she dropped her professional persona, and simultaneously straightened, as she focused her ice-cold annoyance on the Torch. “What do you want, Johnnycake? Some of us have to work in-between making sure we don’t have hair as silly as yours.”

“Still taking six months ago this hard doesn’t become you, Sassy,” Johnny teased, leaning casually on the desk and then knitting that perfect brow. “Though speaking of work, quipping aside, I’ve seen yours. This place is ridiculously slow by comparison, what’re you doing here?”

“Slumming it,” Sassy sighed “Things are slower in Canterlot and I was the only game in town in Trottingham. Poor place needed some fresh blood. And it was four months, you beast!”

“Huh. You sure? See, now I’m wondering if I might’ve done it unconsciously for the sake of the brand. Whoa, whoa, kidding, I was kidding!”

“Hi,” Peter cut in, moving between Johnny and a stapler snatched up by Sassy’s telekinesis, “Peter Trotter, lovable freelance shutterbug. The implication here is you work fast? You’re only dealing with the scent and sound of too much hair gel because he’s doing me a favour. I need a suit for literally tomorrow, so if you could find it in your heart to help me out here, the sooner you’re rid of the not-so-perfect-Storm.”

“You had me at ‘too much hair gel’ darling,” Sassy beckoned as she led them to a curtained corner. Both their spines shivered as the stapler dropped onto the desk with a sound like a redwood crushing a bowling ball full of fine china.

“Good reflexes!” she noted as Peter sprang leisurely onto the offered stool.

“Um...”

“Taught him everything he knows!” Johnny covered, turning up the smarm as he flopped down on a couch and flipped through a copy of _Under the Sun._ At least Peter assumed he was covering. Sassy was soon lost in a world of levitating tape measure and fabric swatches at any rate.

“So where would I know you from?” she asked eventually on the third measuring of Peter’s spine. “Photography,” she clarified at his confused expression.

“Lovable freelance shutterbug,” Johnny said idly, too wrapped up in a spread on Fancy Pants’ new line of luxury airships to add in the snark.

“Oh! Ah, you wouldn’t have seen any of my stuff. Not in fashion, anyway. I’m in newspapers, mostly.”

“Oh?” Sassy’s eyes glistened with interest and potential reviews.

“Usually the _Derby Bugle_!” Peter beamed proudly.

“Oh.” Sassy’s tape measure drooped ever so slightly as she finished measuring his tail. “Still, you must meet some interesting ponies! Famous even?”

“Ahem!” Johnny fumed.

“If by meet you mean photographed at a distance, sure.” Pete stood on his hind legs, forelegs outstretched as Sassy’s magic wove fabric around them. “I’m usually on the crime beat, but every now and then there’s a big name. Sometimes they even cross over, mostly Tony Spark. Whose name is not supposed to be brought up, because every time he moves down here from the coast he supplants Johnny as Manehattan’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Hmph,” Johnny scoffed over the _whomph_ of an igniting flame goatee. “Ooh, lookit me, I’m the third richest pony in the world, my tower’s pointier, park my chopper on the beach!”

“Put that out!” Sassy hissed. “Anyway, there we go! You’ll be the belle of whatever ball you feel like gate crashing for, oh, about three months. How’s it feel?”

“Great!” Peter selected a matching tie from the row she floated in front of him. “Could use some of my, ah, nice reflexes to make it less stiff, but there’s still nothing like a new suit. Johnny, are you messing with the temperature?”

“Who, me?” Johnny batted his eyelids adorably. “But for real, no, Sassy yelled at me.”

“Hmm. A…friend enchanted a scarf for me once? It could spread heat through fibres, do you guys offer that? Or rather the reverse?”

“A cooling enchantment,” Sassy mused. “We doooo, buuut they take time for something with as many fibres as this bad boy. We’d have to send it away for about a hoof-full of working days for something that ambitious and you did say you needed it for tomorrow…”

“Then it’s as good as it’s gonna get,” Peter smiled understandingly, finishing the tie. “Hay, probably knock the price down too, right?”

“I’d like to thank the academy for the opportunity to say one of my favourite things in the world!” Johnny cast _Under the Sun_ aside and hem-hemed with relish. “Ms. Saddles, put it on my tab!”

“No," Sassy said flatly. “Store policy. One tab per customer and the suit is for Peter, not you. Either pony up, close yours, or surprise me by doing the gentlepony thing and doing both.”

“Surprise you like when we went to Prance just to get away from it all?” Johnny grinned. “Or the top of the Mephistopheles mountains? Personally, I was surprised when we got that legit Guoxianese food from Guoxia and you almost choked on--hey!”

“Oops, my tie!” Peter declared dramatically, hurriedly unravelling it as he used his forehead to push Johnny flank first into a corner. “Johnny be a pal and help a pony out, huh?”

“What’s up?” Johnny whispered, pushing back to stop Peter making him physically one with the chosen corner. “Spider-Sense?”

“I looked at the price tags on Sassy’s fabrics, right, and I’ve done the math in my head and--”

“What, you can do higher math in your head but you can’t tie a tie?”

“Johnny, I don’t know what to do! If I had as many gems as stars in the sky I couldn’t afford this thing.”

“Who said you had to?” Johnny turned away as he finished knotting. “Hey Sassy, you adorable ice cream cake you, my tab; that’d be with Pete’s purchase included, yeah?”

“Yes…” Sassy said wearily.

“Then prepare to be surprised!” The Horseshoe Torch beamed.

He didn’t see the brief hollowness in Peter’s eyes.

_5_

The sun set.

The sun rose.

Stuff was about to happen.

_6_

The ever lovin’ blue eyed Thing yawned as he stomped out of the silo elevator. Nothing like a second breakfast after your morning workout. After that, a diagnostic on the family ship for this week’s mission, a light snack and, assuming some yahoo didn’t try to conquer the world, a quick nap before lunch with Armilla.

He frowned, sniffing at a familiar burning smell coming from the living room. “Matchstick? What’re you doin’ up? Before noon no less!”

He squinted, temporarily half blinded by Manehattan morning as his voice inadvertently triggered a system to raise the blinds. The limp form floating a few inches above the carpet remained silent, it’s flames briefly seeming to grow brighter as fresh sunlight filled the room. Didn’t even turn around for their usual morning insult contest. Kids!

“You have too much sugar or somethin’?” Grim asked, still squinting as he trotted around to the Torch’s face. Same adventurous smile Johnny used for all their merchandise at least, but it looked…well, like merchandise. Like the replicas of that smile modelled onto action figures, baseball caps, novelty mugs, and other such curios down in the giftshop. Plastic and static, though also actually on fire.

H.E.R.B.I.E. floated into the room, anticipating the mess Grim would’ve made of the kitchen by now, and chirruped curiously at the sight of one of the family peering at the other. He began to circle the Thing as the Thing circled the Torch, a strange domestic solar system.

“You’re hoverin’ around and he ain’t even made a face,” Grim muttered. “Somethin’s up, shrimp.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. beep booped in agreement. Driven by some primal curiosity, the Thing reached out a tentative hoof and gave his partner in in-fighting a nudge on the shoulder.

His resultant scream of horror shook the top four floors of the Baxter Barn and sent cats, dogs and pigeons scattering for the entire block.

  
  
**_***_ **

“Grim?!” Sand Sousaphone Storm burst out of her office, her image blurring as the Phantasmal Pony summoned one force field to meet the latest unnamed horror to invade her living room, and another under her hooves, surfing into battle!

Even after all these years of teaching herself to shape the building blocks of light itself to her will, though, the Earth Pony was still trying to use a free hoof to pull _on_ her team collar and pull _off_ the business suit she’d started with. “Grim Skies, what is it?! Just tell me it’s not the Pop-Up Pony again, I am in no mood--”

She yelped as her field-platform bounced off the Thing’s back, the impact sending her shirt over her eyes, then let out a louder one when she pulled it off to come face to face with H.E.R.B.I.E. Following his programming, the little automaton blared a klaxon and hid behind the couch.

Sue took the advice of her therapist (technically her lawyer but same difference) and began to count to ten. It was difficult, what with the Thing’s sobs shaking the floor and making her lose count. “Grim, what in Equestria’s the matter?! Did the Knicks lose? Is it one of those stupid Yancy Street pranks? You’re not having another ‘Am I a Mustang or a Monster?’ episode are you, our insurance won’t cover those anymore!”

He turned around, those famous blue eyes brimming with tears under that craggy brow and melting her heart. “Aw Suzie, I’m-I’m so sorry! I did it! I finally went and did it! Aww cripes! I broke yer brother!”

“Get in line,” Sousa muttered, “he didn’t check in last night and this morning in the mail…gugh, when I find that colt I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! The part that lets me make invisible hammers.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. risked peeking out from behind his comfy barricade and chirruped hopefully. With a sigh, Sue raised her forelegs, not even budging as the grateful _Helpful-Experimental-whatever-he-was-supposed-to-be_ zipped across the room and into her reluctant embrace. She squinted as H.E.R.B.I.E. deployed his vacuum cleaner attachment, beeping at her curiously.

She looked down and a pile of ceramic looking chips, one of them sporting her brother’s smirking lips, looked back at her. “Oh wonderful, foreign substances. Part of a balanced breakfast. River! Reed?”

“Y’ph dr’gh?”  
  
The head and elongated neck of Dr. River Reeds, one of Manehattan’s most pioneering intellects, appeared in the doorway with the sound of a hoof sliding over a balloon. He still had a toothbrush in his mouth and his body, when it cantered in after him, was wearing a bathrobe with the edge of what Sue just knew would be the _Why Yes, I Am a Rocket Sorcerer_ t-shirt Johnny had gotten him for Hearth's Warming. Not dramatic but certainly _an_ entrance.

“Yes dear?” Reed clarified, using his telekinesis to remove the toothbrush. “Sorry, I was in the middle of decontaminating a case of lab breath when Grim shook the building and I got tangled in the…facilities. Ooh, foreign substances!”

Sue had to cough twice, the first having been drowned out by the sound of her boyfriend’s neck stretching for an enthusiastic close-up of whatever was littering the carpet, nudging her head in the direction of his bawling best friend.

“Ah!” Mr. Fantastic acknowledged, straightening up to take charge with all the prestige a pony could in his bathrobe. The movement unravelled the belt, spoiling the effect by exposing the _Rocket Sorcerer_ t-shirt. “There, there old friend, let’s calm down, shall we?”

“Aww Stretch, I really put my hoof in it this time!”

“What, this?” Reed levitated a hoof-full of fragments for a curious glance. “Hmm, normally not advisable even with your protective hide, but unless I miss my guess…”

And to their mind-numbing disgust, the smartest pony they knew licked one of them.

“Cripes, Stretcho, show some respect! That’s-that’s Johnny you’re tastin’!”

“What,” Sue said with the monotone of the truly nonplussed, a statement, not a question.

“Ah Susie, I’m so sorry! All these years and I still dunno my own ever lovin’ strength!” That rocky lower lip actually began to tremble. “He was just hoverin’ there when I came in! I gave ‘im a lil’ nudge and he…he plain crumbled to dust right in front of me an-an-an’ I’m no good bum is what I am!”

He dissolved into fresh wails. The air shimmered like a heat haze as Sue shot out force field tendrils, trying to keep trophies and furniture steady as Grim shook the room again. What wasn’t still potentially explosive she’d only recently gotten just the way she liked it.

“Hmm,” Reed ruminated, “yes, as I suspected. Oh Grim Skies, you’re still crying! Buck up, old fellow! Please!” He elongated his torso, wrapping around the wailing Thing in a half hold, half hug “I assure everypony there’s a perfectly logical explanation, but I can’t deliver it if the building comes down! And you’re scaring poor H.E.R.B.I.E.!”

“Yes,” Sue deadpanned as the droid tried to untangle the vacuum cable from her hair, “poor H.E.R.B.I.E.”

“My little pal!” The Thing blubbered “We’ll never see his smug face ever again! When I think of all the crud he pulled, and what a crumb I’ve been to him for it! I did some things in the big one I ain’t proud of, but who’d-a-thought peace would come at an even greater price!”

“Would you mind…?” Sousa gestured to the pile of brick red dust getting further and further into her Nouveau Urban. H.E.R.B.I.E. began to happily vacuum up the apparent remains of her brother. “Grim, wonderful a sentiment as that is, come on, it’s Johnny. No way we’re that lucky. Reed, you were saying?”

“Thank you dear,” Reed smiled as he unwound from his still quaking best friend. “Now, ah, I’m afraid this might partially be my fault. Sousaphone asked me to have a word with Johnnycake about missing power practice--"

“I already don’t like where this is going,” The Thing sniffled.

“Yes, that’s the, ah, thing. To get him to pay attention, I began to speculate about his powers and, well, you remember that one trick he figured out in high school? Use some of his flames to create a decoy Torch? Well, when he flames on his body produces a thermal sheath, which I suspect either protects it from or in some way generates his fire.”

Sue put a hoof to each temple to ease the sheer inevitability.

“On closer examination, over the years it’s evolved into a similar epidermis to yours, old friend, so if it functions along with his fire then hypothetically he could break bits of it off, enough to, say, mould a more convincing form of decoy and Grim, Grim, Thing wait, come back!”

“WHERE IS THAT NO GOOD, LOW DOWN-?!” the Thing bellowed, stamping out into the hall in search-and-destroy mode.

He whipped around as the floor filled with the revolving wail of H.E.R.B.I.E.’s _personnel-down-in-need-of-assistance_ siren. (Reed had a gift for names but had struggled with that one, and the others’ suggestions after hearing it had been too rude.)

He was floating back and forth excitedly in front of a closet door, quest for a fresh vacuum bag forgotten after the discovery of the Horseshoe Torch, sprawled semiconsciously on top of a pile of paper towel rolls, even using one as a pillow, covered in confetti string and tenderly hugging a traffic cone.

Johnny stirred, squinting up at them all through his obligatory pink rimmed, star shaped sunglasses.

“What’s up gang? Have we split up to search for clues yet, or am I just seeing double?”

“Cripes kid, ya look half like death.” The Thing’s face looked even more like an avalanche than normal as he reached down. “Let me HELP YA WITH THAT!”

“Oh cool, it worked!” Johnny beamed, then yelped as he was hoisted up by his somehow still immaculate tail. He thrashed, suspended upside down almost a foot off the ground in the Thing’s one hoofed grip. “Let go, you over grown gargoyle!”

“What, and miss my chance to finally feed ya that toxic waste dump you call a haircut, ya product usin’ putz!”

“Bring it, fugly!”

They both blinked as Grim’s hoof popped open, as if a basketball had inflated itself inside his grip, and Johnny found his svelte 170 lbs floating inside the physics of a soap bubble with the density of marble. Despite flaming on from instinct, he felt that familiar chill in his blood as he turned to meet Sousa’s gaze. “Would you gentlecolts excuse us? I need to talk to my brother.”

“Grim Skies old buddy,” Johnny pleaded, forehooves clasped and going down on still floating knees, “clobber me, please, hard as you can right between the eyes! Even you can’t let me suffer like this!”

“Um,” said Mr. Fantastic, genius, as Sue’s gaze snapped on him like twin sniper scopes. “Come on H.E.R.B.I.E., let’s…get you…”

“Some of that fancy fruit smellin’ cleaning stuff Susie likes so much!” the Thing rallied.

H.E.R.B.I.E. gave a tinny squeal of glee and shot off down the hall, the brains and brawn of super heroism’s first family stoically following in his wake, so as not to look like they were running away.

“Cowards,” muttered the Torch as his sister levitated him over to the couch. He extinguished himself and sighed, terror submersed (for now) by irritation. “Okay, there’s a 50/50 chance I did whatever it is, so fine, let’s play the odds.”

“Let’s not.” Sue’s hard expression didn’t change as she produced a sheet of paper. “This bill was in the mail this morning. What in Equestria did you _do_ yesterday?”

“Went shopping,” Johnny shrugged.

“For what, a weekend in Las Pegasus?! You’re only supposed to see this kind of number when you’ve come out of traction! And this bit here, this is only half of what they’re charging you?!”

“That’s why I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal!” Johnny insisted “Look, it’s a tab. Weekly payments. So I closed it because we can handle it!”

“That’s not the point!” Sue managed, struggling not to shout “How did you run up a tab this big? You’re supposed to keep us up to date on your spending!”

“Oh sure, even though it’s _my_ money! Excuse me if I get a little caught up in this thing we do, y’know, saving the world?!”

“No, I won’t excuse you! That is absolutely not an excuse!”

“I’m not making excuses!”

They were standing face to face now. Johnny hated this. Sue’s mom-itude, the way he’d regress back to high school as if to compliment it. He took the advice of his lawyer and took a deep breath.

“Okay, look. If it’s this big a deal, isn’t it better I shut it down now?”

“You still put it on the company card,” Sue said in words of stone.

Their impact sent Johnny’s universe rippling from the sheer size of his screw up.

“Oh.” He backed off, ears lowering. “Oh man, sis, sorry! I just put down the first piece of plastic I found in my wallet, I legit thought it was mine. I’ll fly by right now and change the details, promise.”

“That’s not better!” Sue put a hoof on his shoulder. “Johnny, no matter who’s paying for it, this bill…it’ll wipe out your savings this first week alone, and those come from what we pay you!”

“Right, but the Horseshoe Torch royalties--”

“Depends on how well your specific merchandise is doing! It’s not a reliable source of income! And all those gems and bits come from the same place. We make a lot of money, and I try to keep it all flowing fairly, but it’s a new financial quarter. We’ve got gosh knows how many contracts up for renewal, and we could lose who knows how many of them. I don’t need to be blindsided by stuff like this!”

“Contracts like Damage Control?” Johnny asked, trying not to throw himself too hard on this potential life raft in case he capsized it. “Because that’s already taken care of!”

“How?” 

“Did I wind up in the closet? Well, after this little dust up with the Wrecking Crew, I took old Web-Head shopping then decided to double back, y’know, help melt down some rubble, weld some support beams back into place, that kinda thing.”

Sue sighed but smiled and shook her head at the same time. Johnny pressed on taking what he could get.

“So when their crews showed up, I got to talking with this overseer, Jasmine Shine, and one thing led to another down at the Cottonmouth Club. For the price of going halfsies on a bill in a place with free refills, I cemented their decision to retain us, well, Reed really, as a consultant! Once Jasmine woke up of course.”

He loftily flopped down on the couch, hooves triumphantly behind his head.

“It’s kinda fuzzy after that, but either I set up the decoy for Grim and he never showed up…or I just forgot where my room was. Dunno where the traffic cone came from.”

Sue didn’t look mad, but definitely wasn’t thrilled either.

“That’s not a great way to do business, and it’s not just the tab…” She blinked. “What does Peter need a new suit for?”

“He’s having tea with Princess Celestia!”

“No. Really. What does Peter need a new suit for?”

“It would actually be less awkward if you went back to being mad at me right now.”

“I’m _not_ mad, I’m worried about you.”

Sue flopped down next to him on the couch with a sigh like an ancient civilisation finally collapsing.

“It’s not the money, Johnny, it’s…everything. First I didn’t say anything, then I tried to find the right way to say it, but this has been going on ever since you left school. You run up huge tabs, you’re out all night, you skip power practice--”

“Y’know, the name’s not suddenly going to sound cooler if you just say it more.”

“I know, but it _is_ important! What we do is dangerous! There are things out there it takes all four of us to handle! I didn’t know where you were last night, what if something had happened to you?!”

Without hesitation Johnny put his forelegs around his sister in a hug. Sousa slumped against him slightly, feeling exhausted.

“And what you did to Grim was kind of mean,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“Think of it as power practice.”

Sue smiled despite herself, taking one of his hooves in hers. “Just do me a favour and hold off on any big spending, okay? I can make this weekly thing work, but no more tabs!”

“Scouts honour, sis.”

“And at least carry your signal flare for my peace of mind, please?”

“I’ll go pick up a fresh one from the doc right now. We cool?”

“Working on it.”

The Phantasmal Pony smiled, nuzzling her little brother, and trotted off in search of her business suit.

Johnny waited until she was out of sight (as in down the hall, not her invisible shtick) before flaming on and floating into the lab.

_[ 7 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_naArkkHMMs) _

Twilight Sparkle stared up at the writhing, wild-eyed cat creature wearing…a vest with a lion face on it? (Oh gosh, that wasn’t an actual lion’s face was it!?) …suspended upside down in the web strung between the spires of Canterlot central station.

“Impudent welp! No prey escapes the world’s greatest hunter!”

“Really? Should I wait here while you go get them?”

Spider-Pony, still upside down, finished weaving a final strand, folding his forelegs and swinging back a little on the web-line from his tail to admire his handiwork.

“Like, I have plans, but leaving is kind of escaping if you think about it. Far be it from me to contradict the reputation of the world’s greatest hunter!”

Not his best work, but Twilight couldn’t help a snicker. Trying to suppress it so as not to attract attention actually drew a few looks from nearby ponies, worried she was either choking, or perhaps having some kind of psychotic fit.

There was nothing funny to her about the arrival of a fully armed E.U.P squad.

“The guys in gold!” Spidey announced, flipping right side up to perch on a ledge, and Twilight couldn’t help wondering if this was a super pony thing or just Peter feeling the need to mug to the crowd. “Now it may seem a little ostentatious, but I simply couldn’t drop by unannounced like this and not bring you a token of my esteem. Careful though, he’s a biter!”

“Hilarious,” deadpanned the Pegasus captain, readying her pump action crossbow with a gratuitous _click-snap._ “Off the architecture, hooves behind your head. You’ve still got some questions to answer from the last time you rampaged through town!”

“Admittedly mistakes were made, but ‘rampaged’ is such a harsh word, don’tcha think?” Spidey spread a foreleg to trace an imaginary headline. “How about _‘Prevented mad scientist from turning Mt. Canterlot into a volcano to power their death ray’_?”

The guards responded by brandishing more weaponry. Twilight Sparkle responded by simply teleporting herself and her loquacious leman out of the area.  
  
The captain blinked, remaining in the air because she was so surprised by the vigilante’s instantaneous disappearance her brain hadn’t even register it enough to throw off her wing beats.

“Lieutenant, did you see that?!”

“Er, yes captain! Is that one of his powers? Can he do that? I didn’t know he could do that!”

“Spiders can’t just disintegrate, lieutenant. Don’t be silly.”

“They don’t dress in red and blue and walks as ponies either, captain! You don’t know everything!”

“Um,” came a hesitant Stalliongrad accent from on high, “if I give you my word as Equestria’s greatest hunter not to bite anypony, could you maybe get me down?”

  
** _***_ **

Spider-Pony blinked as he materialised on top of a gazebo in a quiet section of a city park. “Oh. Hi, honey!”

“Hello, dear,” Twilight beamed. “How was your trip?”

“Honestly fine for the first couple of hundred miles,” Spidey admitted as he casually slipped off the tiled roof, removing his mask as he landed, “but then Kraken the Hunter got on at Whineyapolis. Think he recognised my scent or something. And riding _inside_ a train for once was such a novelty too.”

“Aww, poor baby!” Twilight gave him a peck on the cheek. “Spike was so worried.”

“Only Spike huh?”

“I think he’s still hoping you’ll make him your sidekick someday,” Twilight teased. “But he was pretty overwrought when he showed up, poor thing. I had to ask him to repeat himself a few times, he was going so fast, but he said you tricked that brute into following you onto another train?”

“Well, even Kraken doesn’t deserve the kind of fate you’d visit upon anypony or anything that mussed Spike’s fins.”

“I would’ve turned his bones to glass, yes,” Twilight admitted with a shrug. “But he was carrying your saddlebag, and there’s another bag in there or something?”

“His secret weapon!” Spike announced, startling them both as he sprouted out of some bushes. “Sorry guys, had to duck the fuzz, but yeah, Spider-Peter entrusted me with his secret weapon!”

He held a garment bag aloft like it was one of the Elements of Harmony.

“The fuzz,” Twilight said flatly.

“I may have lent him some of Uncle Glen’s old paperbacks.”

Twilight squinted at the logo on the bag as Peter gingerly took it from between Spike’s talons. “ _Sleek yet Sereine_? Gosh, they’re expensive enough already, I hadn’t heard they were branching out into munitions! That can’t be legal!”

“Only if you think being dressed to kill is a crime!” Peter grinned. It faltered a little at Twilight and Spike’s uncomprehending expressions. “Well, it’s Princess Celestia and all so I brought a…y’know, it’ll be better once you see it, just, ah, just gotta switch places with you Spike, so if we could…”

Twilight sat on her haunches and watched the awkward dance of both men in her life trying to simultaneously enter and exit the bushes in a park she’d walked through and played in since childhood. _This. This is my life now._

“Y’know,” Spike mused, brushing stray leaves off his scales as he finally extracted himself, “maybe that’s not the best place to change, dude. There’s a music festival being set up a few miles away. Probably a few porta potties…”

“Spiiiike, don’t be gross!” Twilight squealed. “Change? Oh, you brought some special costume? That’s…I won’t lie, it’s sudden, but that’s wonderful, Peter! I wasn’t sure if you wanted to tell her this early, but it’ll make everything so simple--”

“Sorry Twilight, there’s some sort of nest in my ear.”  
  
Peter thumped the side of his head a few times and emerged, throwing on the jacket of his new suit and trying not to stagger under the sudden stuffy weight.  
  
He spread his forelegs demonstrably. “Anyway. Ta-da!”

“Oh, wow.” She blinked. “You…got all dressed up.”

“I went through all that just to carry your laundry?!” Spike fumed.

“Nooo, you went through all that to carry my new Reigns Bond cosplay.” Peter mimed that famous tomato throwing pose from all the posters. He was starting to acclimate to the suit, but there was still a certain amount of stiffness. “Whaddaya think? Very Grand Galloping Gala, right? Twilight? You okay, honey? You’re kind of thousand-yard staring.”

“Just…trying to remember it all ended with doughnuts.” Twilight shook her head to rid herself of visions of _that night_ in some alternate universe where today also had to happen. “Reigns Bond? So this is some kind of undercover thing! Is danger afoot?! Do we need to warn the Princess?! Assemble the Befrienders?!”

“No, no, no and wha-? I’m not even wearing the costume under the new number. It was just a nod to how stylin’ I am right now!”

“Nopony says stylin’ anymore,” Spike grumped. “And why do you need to be stylin’ without a g? It’s Canterlot, only the toffs wear suits when they don’t have to.”

“The Torch says styling without a g,” Peter said, surprised at how meek he felt.

“Spike,” Twilight said gently. “It’s Peter’s secret to keep. If he doesn’t want the Princess to know then--”

“How do we know she doesn’t already?” 

“Okay, how did we get on this subject, and would it be okay if we dropped it?” Peter asked, tugging at his collar. He’d expected the mountain air up here to take some of the edge off but the suit was starting to feel uncomfortably warm. Yeah. The suit. That was it.

“Well don’t you wanna be honest with her?”

“Yeah, which is why she’ll be meeting…me. Not the wall-crawler.” Peter tried a smile “No need for a dramatic revelation if there doesn’t have to be. I’m only a super hero half the time, Spike.”

The dragon blinked. “So, what, you’re only honest half the time?”

Peter blinked. Spike sighed.

“Uh…y’know what Twilight, I changed my mind. Think I’ll hit the movies and swing by to say hi to the Princess when it’s all over.”

“If that’s what you think is best.” Twilight passed him a bag of bits from her saddlebag. Spike waddled off, looking over his shoulder with a pensive smile.

“Good luck, guys. You might need it.”

“What was that supposed to mean?” Peter asked as they began to mingle with the crowds of tourists, merchants and citizens trotting in and out of the park. The fact that the few of them that were wearing a suit carried briefcases (or had somepony else in a suit to carry it _for_ them) made him feel self-conscious. “Am I supposed to feel like I did something wrong?”

“No,” Twilight assured, still looking over her shoulder to keep a maternal eye on Spike until he was totally out of view. “Spike acts like one of the gang but he’s still very young. And he’s seen the kind of damage keeping a secret can do.”

“Twilight, my identity--”

“I understand,” Twilight cut in, glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “You’ve carried that secret since you were fifteen years old. But Spike’s identity…he’s _also_ seen the damage some dragons can do if they put their minds to it. Being a pony, raised here in the capital of Equestria? That’s important to him. The Princess is as important to him as she is to me. It makes sense he’d be a little…touchy about keeping something from her.”

“And it’s important to me that this goes well. Spider-Pony’s given me a lot, but it’s taken a lot away. I don’t want it to sink this.” Peter gave her a nuzzle. “You’re both important to me as well.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Well, yeah. Can’t do without my faithful sidekick.”

Twilight giggled, grateful for the change in direction. Peter grinned and decided to press his luck. “So okay, Spike’s not a fan, but what’s _your_ opinion of the swanky new duds?”

“Not as…flexible as your costume.” Peter’s heart skipped a little as Twilight batted her eyelashes the way she’d practised in the mirror for months. “But it shows off your calves quite nicely. And you _know_ I like a stallion who can tie a mean Grantchester Knot…”

“You should see me unravel it,” Peter breezed in his best Bond brogue.

“Peeeeter, behave, there’s people!” Twilight hissed through grinning teeth as she blushed. “But yeah, I don’t know how necessary it was, but I approve. What about you?”

“After spandex, nothing can ever be too itchy,” Peter admitted, “but the fabric’s a bit heavier than what I’m used to. Which is ironic, since the entire reason I didn’t just go with my old one is it’s been dry cleaned stiffer than the Thing’s ear hair.”

“Does it breathe okay?” Twilight asked as they climbed into the waiting chariot. “It’s just you’re wearing a black jacket and tie. _And_ carrying your saddlebag. _And_ we’re going to be sitting out in the open, in the land the sun is raised directly over every day.”

“Hey, long as I can bow in it, right?”

“As long as you’re happy, dear,” Twilight beamed, returning the drivers’ bows and leaning against Peter’s shoulder as they began to pull their ride. “Now however will we endure this romantic carriage ride through one of the most beautiful cities in Equestria?”

“Could be our most harrowing team up yet,” Peter teased.

  
**_ *** _ **

‘Endure’ turned out to be the strangely appropriate word, though. The air of the mountain road leading up to the castle was actually quite pleasant after years in Manehattan’s thickness, but the prospect of what Peter was riding towards began to set in. The castle didn’t look like any of the thousands of evil lairs he’d infiltrated before with Spider-Sense on full alert, but none of _them_ had housed his wizard girlfriend’s wizard mom.

In addition, the weight of his bag, the rocking of the chariot, and even the warmth of Twilight’s body against his combined to make his new suit feel like it was heating up whenever the chariot was directly in the sunlight. Once outside the castle courtyard, he checked to make sure Twilight was preoccupied with thanking and tipping the drivers, and checked his brow with a hoof. Not damp, but he could probably do to loosen his tie soon.

“Everything alright?” Twilight asked.  
  
Peter quickly turned the gesture into shielding his eyes as he took in the beautiful castle…parking lot.

“Fine, fine!” he covered. “So it’s been ages since _The_ _Bugle_ last sent me here. Do we wait for a guard or a butler or something to show us in?”

“Or something,” said a gracious voice from on high.

Both ponies turned to see the icon of Equestria itself circling overhead as she came in for a landing. Princess Celestia smiled down at the two of them, the perfect Canterlot spring afternoon seeming to become that much brighter for her presence.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight cried with childlike glee, drowning out Peter’s terrified wheeze of “…hi,” as she galloped over to her mentor for one of those famous neck hugs.  
  
Even though he was now standing at ground zero, and starting to feel the combo of the new suit _and_ his saddlebag had been a mistake, making him look less like a suitor come-a-courtin’ and more like an overgrown school foal, he couldn’t help but smile at how natural the moment between them was.

“Twilight Sparkle! Thank you for accepting an old mare’s invitation.”

Twilight hopped back to Peter’s side and cleared her throat before bowing respectfully. “That is…hello Princess. It’s wonderful to see you again. Spike will be by later but this is…this is my coltfriend, Peter Trotter.”

She only squeaked ‘coltfriend’ a little. Peter followed, hoping it didn’t look forced.  
  
With his luck, he’d been expecting the suit jacket to fall over his head, or the sleeves to rip from prostrating his legs, but it was his faithful saddlebag that betrayed him. The bow sent it sliding down his back, over his head and to the ground, rattling with the sound of his camera, change, and keys. He instinctively straightened up, only tangling his forelegs in the strap and making it more difficult for the aid who’d materialised from nowhere to pick it up.

“Sorry, thanks!” he blurted, not sure who he was apologising to.  
  
His focus swung to Celestia with the inevitability of gravity, the scale of the amused but kind eyes baring down on him wiping out every hastily prepared statement.

Twilight had already made the introductions, hadn’t she? What exactly was he supposed to say to the mare who’d seen civilisation rise and fall thousands of times before his aunt and uncle had been born? It would’ve been easier if she’d been one of the pompous cosmic entities or power mad sorcerers who sometimes fetched up in Manehattan. He could have cracked wise at her. He’d always known what to say to Kulan Gath!

“The Horseshoe Torch said to say hi,” his mouth said on autopilot.

“Oh, you know Johnnycake? How nice of him.” Celestia trotted closer, making his hind legs quiver with repressing the urge not to back away. “But I’m far more interested in getting to know you. Cadence’s description of Twilight’s descriptions was quite...”

She tilted her head as if appraising him, never stopped smiling but something did make her frown slightly. “Pardon me dear, you’ve got a little schmutz.”

And then the Princess of the Sun licked one of her wingtips, and rubbed it against his cheek.  
  
Peter got the impression that, in just his coat, being this close to the alicorn’s constantly radiating magical field would’ve felt as satisfying as a sunbeam to a cat. In his suit, everything just got hotter.

Also the embodiment of ponyhood herself was spit polishing him. [Twilight's face when.](http://orig04.deviantart.net/5d18/f/2012/281/d/0/horrified_twilight_by_the_crusius-d5h7kmo.png)

“Hmm,” Celestia muttered. “It’s more stubborn than Luna, I swear…”

“What?” Peter put a hoof to the black dot under his right eye, tiny sparkles still twinkling around it. “Oh! My mole! Uh, no your highness, I…I’ve had that all my life…”

“Ah,” the one thousand and change year old sorceress and diplomat managed.  
  
Awkward silence reigned.  
  
The sound of the approaching aid’s hooves echoed off the castle’s stone path, bouncing around the three of them like the embarrassing aftersounds of dropping a family heirloom down a flight of stairs.

“Ladies? Sir?” she asked from a garden door. “Is everypony ready?”

_To be continued_

* * *

**[ GLOSSARY](https://docs.google.com/document/d/144nGGI-sKbzpCVkvBh1kCXsfJ7tdUZl05s4lQQa9-HA/edit?usp=sharing)**


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